The real question is not why "Gore Vidal's The Best Man" has a pretentious new moniker (it used to be simply The Best Man), but whether it is as topical, timely, and titillating as it likely appeared on Broadway forty years ago. The answer is not quite. But it is still a good show. What had been proclaimed politically provocative in its time is now a little old-hat. What was considered substantial and revelatory is now indelibly lightweight. Vidal's plot, pitting an ethical and erudite senator William Russell against a no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty Senator Joseph Cantwell, can hardly be called inventive.
Yet, the battle of tongues and tempers, in the hands of Vidal, is a consistently witty one, with plenty of winks at such top political figures of the time as Adlai Stevenson and Richard Nixon. In retrospect, it was a time when a candidate's stand on domestic issues and foreign policies appeared a little more important than a candidate's television persona. Nevertheless, The Best Man remains a genial, entertaining, and for the most part, engaging look at politics in the good old days (i.e., before everything at a convention was a done deal. There is also no reason to disbelieve Vidal's statement that he did not tamper with a word (except for the title). Perhaps it is the quaintness of the viciousness that makes the play as endearing as it is.
I did not get to see Charles Durning, in the role of the slick and cunning former President Arthur Hockstader, on the night I attended. Inclement weather caused a delay in Durning's flight back to New York. Ed Dixon, Durning's understudy, assumed the role and was terrific. Although I would have like to have seen Durning in the role, I am in total agreement with the standing ovation accorded Dixon at the curtain calls. (Dixon usually plays the smaller role of the cynical senator Clyde Carlin.) This night, Dixon was totally in the driver's seat as the manipulating Hockstader, who though dying and in pain from cancer, significantly enlivens the stakes between the two voraciously battling campaigning front-runners. Dixon's ungainly yet bearish stride and his insinuating Southern drawl gave us a rich, colorful, and amusingly eccentric and formidable character: one whose presence when gone is sorely missed.
A major error in casting renowned raconteur but non actor, Spalding Gray, in the central role of Senator William Russell, and spotty direction by Ethan McSweeney, do not help the cause. However, it is Vidal's vote for idealism and principals, and his disdain for unprincipled ambition that are the true guiding proponents of the play. Yes, it is a one sided and decidedly polarizing polemic. However, Vidal makes sure that it's the meanies, as they do in life, that craftily keep everyone on their toes.
What could be more amusing in this election year than oodles of snappy and insinuating dialogue that earnestly and humorously recalls a time when the delegates at a convention could actually surprise us with their votes. The play is ripe with character assassinations and disclosures (mostly to do with matters sexual) and a plethora of flip political quips. The scene is a Philadelphia hotel room during the time of the nominating convention. Here, the likeable, liberal and idealistic and married William Russell (Gray) is faced with the exposure of his years as a philanderer. Unfortunately, Gray's years as a monologist has not sharpened his acting technique. Neither convincing nor able to sustain the dramatic credibility of his character, Gray seems merely content to create a character out of his off-handedly-delivered sermons and bon mots. No dice. Russell's bete noir is the tough and treacherous Joseph Cantwell (Chris Noth), whose gung-ho attack of Russell is contrasted against his baby-talk-embroidered relationship with his wife (He calls her "mama bear").
Noth, who is probably best know for his roles in TV's "Law and Order," and "Sex And The City," is the meanie but tends to soften the edges of Cantwell's basically rotten underbelly. Noth presents a somewhat muted portrait of this truly dangerous adversary, even when threatened with the release of information regarding his involvement in a homosexual incident in the army.
Standing and maneuvering smartly behind their husbands are the wives; each in her own way passionately dedicated to her husband. Michael Learned is grand as Russell's wife Alice, a model of decorum and refinement, even as she valiantly conceals to her husband and to the world her true feelings about her sex-less marriage. Christine Ebersole sparkles as Cantwell's sassy and politically perceptive wife, Mabel. Stealing every scene she is in, Ebersole makes you realize every time she lets go with one of her steel-belted smiles what a driving and significant force the equally ambitious woman behind her man can be. Other performances appear as colorful cameos.
Elizabeth Ashley is funny enough, as the sashaying frou-frou frocked leader of a women's caucus. Jonathan Hadary is both scary and nutty, as the mentally unbalanced informer who fingers Cantwell. Mark Blum makes a good impression as Dick Jenson, Russell's unscrupulous campaign manager. Theoni V. Aldredge's costumes, especially for Ebersole, are stylish and flattering. John Arnone's setting is clever union of hotel and convention hall activity.
This may not prove to be The Best Man we have been waiting for. Nevertheless, as in politics, it will serve nicely until a better man shows up. Do we have to wait another forty years?
